Because the King Dies as He Pleases
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Tywin Lannister steps up to the frustrating task of reading aloud an important legal document just six hours after the purple wedding. A funeral is planned. There are harsh words. Someone has the last laff. Hijinks ensue. "The body is gone but the troll lives on." (CRACK FIC. SPOILERS FOR PURPLE WEDDING AND MINOR SPOILERS BEYOND BUT WE ALL SHOULD KNOW THIS.)


Warning: Utter crack, sexual humor, gross humor, spoilers for Season 4/Episode 2 ("The Lion and the Rose"), some minor spoilers of the aftermath,spoilers in general, and ridiculous BS. Lots of cursing, modern day references, and stupidity. Slightly pro-Joffery because it's me, and I feel he would have made sure to have the last laugh. This is not serious. This story may not make sense. It is crack. You've been warned.

****Spoilers**: Beyond spoiling the last episode, it also hints at who could have murdered who so don't read if you don't know the books or haven't already been spoiled. I shall not be blamed for this.**

* * *

Because the King Dies as He Pleases

_"The body is gone but the trollollol lives on."_

* * *

"You _can't _be thinking of business now! You _can't, _Father! You need to give me sufficient time to mourn! This is senseless! Cruel! Awful!" wailed Cersei Lannister, tears streaming down her face as she sat on her deceased son Joffrey's bed. She was angry and frusterated because Tywin Lannister wanted to get the funeral accomplished in a timely manner as to put a Lannister baby in widowed Margaery Tyrell as soon as possible- by any means necessary. Prince Tommen was obviously next in line for the throne, but at this point Tywin was ready to give it a go himself since Tommen was a simple-minded youth who, as far as Tywin had heard, could only say two things ("Mummy" and "Don't kill me, Joff!"). Tyrion had failed Tywin by being a lecherous dwarf who bedded the most diseased-ridden hookers in the land yet could not touch his scrumptious ginger wife and now Joffrey! Tywin had had some faith in his grandson, and now the little shit had the nerve to die just hours before he could have spilt his lion seed within his new bride- why couldn't Joffrey have died at a more convenient time? Tywin mulled this all over and glowered at Cersei from across the room. He was currently attempting to find any evidence of King Joffrey's will which was a difficult task because the late king's dressers and desk were stacked to the brim with various random things like the corpses of animals, bloody weaponry, body parts and strangely, a sizable collection of his mother's undergarments.

Tywin tossed yet another pair of skimpy panties with the words "I HEART JL" marked on the arse in Cersei's direction with a scowl on his tired face. Booze would make this entire ordeal a lot more manageable, but as everyone was fearful of drinking any wine they were all depressingly sober. Tywin rolled his eyes. "Sufficient time to mourn? It has been over six hours since the king died. When your mother died, I was over it in five minutes. You really shame the Lannister name with your humiliating displays of emotion, but then again you _are _a woman. Though being a woman is somewhat better than being deformed," he spat at Jaime Lannister, who lowered his head in shame. "Though," Tywin went on, "being deformed is better than being an imp." He turned to glare deeply at Tyrion, until he recalled his youngest had been shipped off to jail for the crime of poisoning Joffrey. He shrugged, recollecting his thoughts. " Anyway, it's not like my grandson is even worth mourning. He was contemptuous little shit who was too lazy to walk to his own meetings, and when I arranged to carry him, he was nowhere to be found!" He pounded the dresser, turning red with anger at the memory. "I had to walk _back _up seven flights of stairs and he laughed at me from the bottom of the staircases as soon as I was halfway to the top. Good riddance! It's high time we crowned a better king!"

"My late love Joffrey was the king, the one true king! And the sweetest husband I could have ever asked for!" cried Margaery Tyrell, decked out in a backless black gown that accentuated her gorgeous breasts. "Our time together was beautiful! My wedding was the fairytale affair I've always dreamed of! Joffrey's drunken antics were so, so endearing! His sloppy, wine-fueled kissing made my knees weak! I just love a good tongue down my throat! He threatened my life so sweetly! He had the best sense of humor!" She let out a particularly long sob. "And the kindest heart!"

Cersei was shocked. After all, she'd never agreed with Margaery until this moment. She burst anew into tears, remembering all of the wonderful things about Joffrey.

_"You can stop pretending now,"_ whispered Olenna Tyrell into Margaery's ear in annoyance. Margaery continued to sniffle in an artificial way that wouldn't have even fooled the most gullible person in Westeros.

Speaking of the most gullible person in Westeros, Sansa Stark was standing by, unsure of how to feel as usual. On one hand, her ex-betrothed was dead and could no longer threaten to publicly beat her, or rape her, or brag about killing her father, or laugh about her dead brother, or point out that her tits were not half as grand as Lady Margaery's. On the other hand, Joffrey had been very handsome and perhaps one day he'd have come around and become a kind, loving person and they could have had lots of tender sex with lots of gentle kissing and she could have given birth to thousands of his golden-haired babies and they would have lived happily ever after. She went to her happy place and began to hum Taylor Swift songs with a wistful smile, rocking back and forth slightly.

"I found something!" Maester Pycelle cried out excitedly from Joffrey's chest of drawers, waving about a folded up piece of parchment. Everyone waited with baited breath as he unwrapped it, which took what seemed like one hundred years. "Ah," he said in a sad tone. "It's nothing but a drawing the king made of his family. Not what we were looking for, but altogether touching. What detail! I particularly like the arrows in Lord Tyrion's head!" He smiled and passed around the artwork so everyone in the room could enjoy it. Cersei cried harder at the drawing of stick figures; she'd never known her son was an accomplished artiste.

Varys paused in skimming a copy of _Terrorizing Starks: A Guidebook._"I've checked in most of the late king's books hoping he may have stashed it away, and there are no wills in sight. Perhaps the king was too busy to create one?"

"Impossible!" Tywin shouted. "He was never busy! As far as I know, he spent his reign shooting arrows out of his chamber window, ordering babies to be killed, sexually threatening young women and jumping on his bed!"

"How dare you insinuate Joffrey wasn't busy!" Cersei howled. "Killing innocent babies and women takes precision! Joffrey was so talented..." She cried harder, and Margaery cried along with her, so Cersei cried louder. Margaery cried louder still. Cersei glared at Margaery and cried harder. Margaery smiled innocently through her tears at Cersei and cried even harder.

"Oh for hell's sake," declared Olenna.

Little Finger emerged out from under Joffrey's bed, wrinkling his nose.

"Did you find anything under there?" asked Varys.

"Only the last of Ros," Little Finger said with a shrug. "Nothing worth investing time in."

Tywin continued to search through his late grandson's belongings, cursing under his breath all the while. Then, between the pages of _Sexual Sadism for Dummies, _Tywin discovered a large envelope. On the front, in Joffrey's unmistakable loopy and enormous scrawl, it said _'My Dying Wishes- In Case I Am Not Immortal, HA!'. _"Let us get this over with so we can marry Margaery and Tommen as soon as possible!" snapped Tywin, opening the envelope.

"Mummy?" questioned Tommen, with wide-eyes from his place on the floor. Cersei looked around with a confused expression as she'd forgotten she had another son.

"AHEM," Tywin grumbled, clearing his throat and opening up the piece of parchment. He scanned the document, and his eyebrows furrowed. "What in the seven hell's," he whispered. "Perhaps I should simply burn this and save everyone the trouble-"

"No!" screamed Cersei. "My son needs to be honored! My son needs his voice heard!"

"Her grace is correct," said Pycelle, nodding. "It is protocol to read the king's last desires, no matter how daft they seem at the time. After all, when the mad king died, everyone had to wear false mustaches for three months and no one could not say the word 'and'. When his grace Robert Baratheon passed, we had to fly a banner with the name 'LYANNA' all throughout the kingdom."

"See?" Cersei shot at her father. "Read my son's will!"

"Er-sweet sister, perhaps Joffrey should just be laid to rest. Maybe Father is right," said Jaime in a tentative tone. "I think Joffrey had his voice heard quite a bit-"

"How dare you speak about our son- I mean my son- like that!" Cersei snarled.

Tywin gritted his teeth. "SILENCE, ALL OF YOU FOOLS! I shall read it. But I shall not be blamed for this! There is no going back!"

The room quieted down as Tywin began to read Joffrey's final wishes. As he read, they realized that perhaps this had not been such a good idea.

* * *

_'Hello, you lot of cunts! It's me, King Joffrey Baratheon, the one true king, the first of my name, the protector of King's Landing, the defender of the realm, the one with the nicest eyes in all the lands, and the most fearless warrior ever in all of the seven kingdoms, the lover of pie and connoisseur of arrows! If you are reading this, I have died. I take pity on you because this means I will haunt your pathetic arses for the rest of your sorry lives! Especially you, Sansa Stark! Mwahaha!'_

* * *

Sansa fingered the pendant Joffrey had given her, still smiling faintly. _He still loved me, _she thought, again desperately trying to find her happy place. Tywin went on.

* * *

_'First, I want to state how much I hate each and every one of you, except for Mother (in the times you actually listened to my genius ideas and did not try to overthrow me with your insipid emotional blathering) and my beautiful bride-to-be Margaery (you are definitely too good to be true, love you, kiss kiss). Everyone else I detest. Let me count the ways. _

_Uncle Jaime: I doubt you will ever make it back to King's Landing because you are a cocked up dick but if you do... You are a lazy, useless coward! Where were you when I needed to be carried to my small council meetings (Grandpa doesn't do it right!)? Where were you when I was fighting bravely during the battle at Blackwater Bay? Oh right, you are were captured by the Stark bitches and you never even remembered to send me a raven for my name day or a Christmas present. You made the people of King's Landing hate me simply by existing! They all think I'm the incestuous bastard of you and my mother. But you wouldn't know that because you are NEVER HERE FOR ME. You are the worst uncle ever, and that is saying something. _

_Uncle Tyrion: Actually, only joking. You are the worst uncle ever. I don't like that you're short and I cannot stand your confusing way of speaking. Why must you use such big words? You hurt my head! Besides, you are absolutely no help to me whatsoever and have never done a blasted thing to help the realm. _

_Sansa Stark: You taught me that stupid things can come in pretty packages. I still want to make sex with you but I dislike you with every fibre of my being! I hate you for the way you make my body say yes while my mind is saying no. You irritate me greatly! I try desperately to jerk off while thinking about abusing my one true love Margaery yet you seem to slip into the fantasy every time! Leave me alone, Stark!_

_Grandfather: You are mean and old. I do not appreciate that you have given me a daily nap time (though to be honest, I do feel more refreshed in the evenings) !_

_Varys: The fact that you have no cock creeps me out. Thus, I hate your face. _

_My soon-to-be-Grandmother-in-Law : You puzzle me. Are you sarcastic or sincere? Is that damned scarf on your head the only thing that's holding your neck in place? I've never seen you without it and therefore suspect you are actually dead. It would explain the smell. Ha ha. And why do you keep making references to it being horrific to kill a man on his own wedding day? If I did not trust Margaery's promises that you are a good person, I'd assume you were foreshadowing something!'_

* * *

Olenna looked around with fearful eyes. _That awful little prick was smarter than he looked. _Luckily everyone seemed so moved by Joffrey's words that no one said a thing.

* * *

_'Tommen: I hardly see you and tend to forget you exist but when I do remember you, I puke a little. _

_I'd go on about who I hate but thankfully most of the rest are dead. If you were not on this list, I probably still deplore you. But now it is time to move on to my will ! You should be lucky if you are listed here! I will be distributing my most prized possessions as such:_

_Lady Margaery, my beautiful future queen: To you I shall gift my new crossbow because every time I look at it, I think of that afternoon when I taught you how to shoot an arrow. I will always remember the way I very subtly placed my arms around you and slowly drove my groin against your round little bottom in a back-and-forth motion. Yes, that was a great day indeed. I do hope you use it well. _

_Mother: To you I would like to give all of my skinned animals and body parts. As you know, killing and hurting things is my favourite hobby and you can remember how skilled I was at the art of pain. I love you, Mother. You are the second most beautiful woman in my life and I will miss bathtime with you._

_Little Finger: You gave me the sweetest gift I could have asked for, the gift of my first live target. To you, I would like to give my swords, knives and ropes. Your brothels are a bit vanilla, in my kingly opinion. I shall assist you in driving up your kink factor and thus getting better clientele. (You may need to invest in new prostitutes more often, but I am certain you will be up for this task. In fact, I do suggest you track down my sister Myrcella in Dorne or wherever the Hells she went. She's likely not doing anything noteworthy in her life.) _

_Ser Loras: You may have my wardrobe as you admired it so. I appreciate you for complimenting me on my good style of dress. You have wonderful taste. _

_Tommen: I'd like to give you the coat I made out of your pet fawn. Because... it's funny. That's why. _

_Sansa: To you I wish to gift the painting I had done of myself fighting your sister's direwolf and also the one I had made of me massacring your family. I request these paintings be bolted above your bed. See you in your worst nightmares, bitch!_

_To the rest of you, well... You are lucky you even knew me. Suffice to say you shall never have a true king after I am gone!'_

* * *

"GODS!" yelled Jaime. "Is this thing over? My arse of a son-er-nephew is talking our ears off even now!"

"Shut up, you crippled fool," hissed Tywin. "Yes! It is almost done. His dying wishes are the last item for me to read."

Varys and Little Finger exchanged a meaningful glance only Sneaky people can give each other, and snuck out the secret crawlspace in Joffrey's room to gossip over tea as Tywin went on.

* * *

_'Before I bid you farewell, I have a few last requests. These are important and you shall do as I say... or else I will appear in front of every mirror you look into, and scare you whilst you are bathing! _

_At my funeral, _

_1. I demand that Uncle Tyrion should be forced to ride a pig for the entertainment of those who gather to mourn me (what is funnier than a dwarf riding a pig? NOTHING!). I also request he strip Sansa Stark and have her beaten by my kingsguard in my name! One more time, for nostalgia's sake. _

_2. Two whores should be forced to fight naked to the death! The winner gets to make out with Margaery while Sansa grabs Margaery's tits! A vat of wine should be dumped over all of them! Sansa should lick wine off Margaery's tits! Make sure this lasts at least 2 hours minimum._

_3. I want my Hound to carry me in my coffin. No one else but my Hound! FIND MY HOUND BEFORE YOU HOLD MY FUNERAL. Unless... Actually, make Uncle Tyrion do it. Maybe it will crush him. That would be hysterical. Ha._

_4. Everyone must chant, "Joffrey Baratheon, He is our Man!" whilst clapping in unison before my eulogy is read. _

_5. Mother, you should write my eulogy. Spare no praise! Tell the people of my finest deeds: How I won the battle of Blackwater Bay, how I bravely fought off Arya Stark's direwolf with my bare hands, how I executed Robb Stark, my perfect penmanship, my lovely singing voice, my fabulous table manners, the hunting skills I inherited from my father, my smooth way with the women folk... Make sure it's all in there! _

_6. Margaery will shoot off three arrows into the crowd with a blindfold over her eyes. This will be the comedic entertainment! _

_7. My epitaph shall read: "Long Live King Joffrey! The king did as he pleased and not one single fuck was given!'_

_8. End my funeral with a fight between a direwolf and a lion. (Note: Make sure the direwolf loses!) _

_9. My final dying wish: Make me a White Walker, if those thingies even exist. I do not know how, but DO IT. That way I can keep killing FOREVER!_

* * *

Tywin sighed, rubbing his temples. His grandson was even stupider and more bizarre than he'd realized. "Well," he said, "obviously we will absolutely not be conducting the funeral in this mann-"

But before he could continue, Cersei stood up, shaking her finger wildly at him. "These are Joffrey's last words and we are going to follow his orders exactly! I will give permission for Tyrion to perform his part in Joffrey's funeral!"

The remaining people in the room groaned. Even Margaery had stopped acting and was pouting with her arms crossed, likely worrying shooting off arrows into a crowd of people might lose her the favor of the people and thus make her just _a _queen instead of _the _queen. Sansa was now laughing and crying at once, rocking herself in a fetal position in the corner. Maester Pycell snuck out of the chaotic room, clutching Joffrey's drawing to his heart.

"Don't be a fool," snarled Tywin. "These are entirely asinine requests. We are going to have a _normal _funeral. I won't be shamed the way I was at his wedding, I'll be damned!"

"WE WILL DO AS HE WANTED!" screamed Cersei, jumping at Tywin and knocking him to the ground. Jaime tried to pull his sister and father apart but found this hard to do with one hand as soon as Tywin tripped him. Olenna told Margaery to stop pouting and to pull her dress over her cleavage (_"Your new husband looks to be about ten years old! You do not need to do that anymore!") _ and they broke out squabbling. Tommen cried loudly near Joffrey's bedside where he'd just found a box concealing the remains of his lost pets.

Suddenly, Sansa's eyes widened and she stopped rocking back and forth. She could have sworn she just heard a bout of cold, hearty, high laughter ringing in her ears. It sounded just like Joffrey. But it couldn't be him. It _couldn't. _Could it?

* * *

Somewhere deep, deep below the earth of Westeros in the lowest, hottest circle of Hell, sat the spirit of the late King Joffrey Baratheon. He was lounging on a long chaise with his legs crossed over in a prim fashion and a large, winding sneer wove up his thin face. His cheeks still bore the ghastly purple tinge he'd died with, and his wide eyes were still filled with bits of blood, giving him a far more demonic appearance than usual. Joffrey was sorry to be dead but only because he feared for the people of Westeros. They'd never have a wise and generous ruler like him ever again. He'd also really wanted to bone Margaery Tyrell but he figured she'd let him down like most other things in his short life.

He was very much aware of the chaos his list of dying wishes was causing his relatives and acquaintances and he let out another laugh. Hell was hot, but it wasn't half bad either. The people were pretty interesting (since boring old shits like Ned Stark obviously were not allowed down there) and from what he'd seen, there were quite a few ladies of the night who'd been sent to eternal damnation just like him. The only punishment he'd been warned about so far was that he had to relive his death every day, but he supposed it could be worse. Even if it _did _get worse (and he'd heard rumors while standing in line on the way into Hell that it would), the reactions of those left above were truly worth it.

"I have you_ all_ where I want you," Joffrey sneered, rubbing his hands together.

He laughed again as Cersei slapped Margaery whose dress fell down which made Tommen sob which made Sansa sing to herself which made Jaime run quickly out of the room which caused Tywin to say "Damn it to hell" and pour a drink of wine which caused Olenna to join him.

Joffrey pointed and howled with laughter at his personal entertainment as he was served a generous heap of pigeon pie and a goblet of wine. Taking an enormous swallow of wine and shoving pie in his mouth, he continued laughing, slapping his knee. "You're all still mine to torment!" he bellowed, as other Hell dwellers looked at him in a concerned fashion. "ALL. STILL. MINE. TO. TORMENT!" Joffrey began to cry tears of laughter as his throat closed up. He coughed and coughed, looking around the dark room. "Pardon me!" he shouted. "The pie is dry! THE PIE IS DRY!"

After he'd recovered from his death for what would be the first of infinity times, Joffrey wore a knowing smile. Here, he had a perfect seat to witness all the insanity of the game. He could not wait for his funeral. He planned to be there. After all, there is nothing funnier than a dwarf riding a pig.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
